


Spending his Money

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Creampie, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was a very pretty picture. Cropped to show the mess between Oikawa’s thighs, along with his glistening belly and chest up to the swell of his lips. He’d begged Kuroo to come over within the hour, promising a pretty penny--but Kuroo couldn’t miss his midterm the next day. Oikawa came with Kuroo’s promises for what he’d do after dinner tonight, and now he had to make up for that raincheck.~Or Kuroo needs to make rent, so he fucks his older "boyfriend" for some cash.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 126





	Spending his Money

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mess of a series. its oikawa getting fucked by a bunch of younger boys that he also pays what can i say i love when he has a dick in his ass.
> 
> tsukki's up next

Kuroo rarely smokes, but there are always a few exceptions. And he’s finishing off a cig as he arrives outside the restaurant. The text accompanying the picture he received last night told him to be here at 7:00. It’s 7:10 as he pauses outside the door to take one last drag and flick the filter away. The smoke clings to him like a parasite as he pushes inside.

Oikawa is waiting for him--as punctual as always--with his arms crossed over his chest and his brows furrowed. Kuroo can’t help but grin. Of course, Oikawa is wearing a tailored Italian three-piece suit that probably costs more than Kuroo’s car payment. He looks remarkably more put together than the picture Kuroo obsessed over for the past twenty-four hours. He’s creeping over with the intention to surprise him when Oikawa’s head swings toward him. Vague annoyance curdles into a rage as Oikawa closes the distance. “You’re late,” he hisses while jabbing a finger into Kuroo’s sternum.

He glances at an imaginary watch. “Seems I am.” Oikawa sneers at him before turning and flicking his fingers at the hostess. “What, they wouldn’t seat you without me?” Oikawa shoots him a withering glare before following the hostess further into the restaurant. Kuroo stares at his ass as they wind through fancily set cloth-covered tables to a secluded booth along the back wall.

Oikawa is still pissy when they reach the table. Kuroo rolls his eyes and obediently pulls out a chair for him. He scoots it in as Oikawa sits, and leans in close. With their faces parallel, he can see how tightly his jaw is clenched. His hand slips from the chair to cup the small of Oikawa’s back. “Calm down, baby.” Oikawa’s jaw only ratchets tighter--and Kuroo wonders if he’s going to crack his teeth.

He relaxes, only marginally, and throws an elbow into Kuroo’s ribs. He laughs and slides into his chair. “You smell like cigarettes.” Oikawa fails to sound entirely disgusted as he wants to and Kuroo just shrugs.

Oikawa turns his attention to the menu, and Kuroo doesn’t even bother to open his own. Oikawa would just talk over him while they ordered anyways. He entertained himself by looking between the interior and Oikawa. Ostentatious columns and filagree. His cheekbones and the pout of his lips. Swirling clouds painted on the ceiling and fake ivy hanging over the windowsills. The crease between his eyebrows and his long fingers curled around the menu. Kuroo swallows. “I want something stronger than wine.”

“Of course you do,” Oikawa responds, saccharine and cloying, without looking away from the menu. Kuroo licks his teeth and smothers his annoyance. “I’m ordering a bottle, you’ll be able to get plenty drunk.”

Kuroo momentarily loses the ability to bite his tongue. “What, worried I’ll get whiskey dick?” His eyes finally shift from the menu. They’re wide and incredulous, and Kuroo takes the moment to count his eyelashes.

“I can’t say I’d be surprised.” Oikawa’s voice lacks bite and he closes his menu as he flicks his fingers again. 

“You look like a douche when you do that.” Kuroo sees the waiter scurry across the floor, obviously aching for a good tip. He’s in luck for tonight--Oikawa basically wipes his ass with fresh bills. Kuroo grins at the thought as the waiter leans into Oikawa’s side, barely sparing a glance at Kuroo as he dutifully notes everything that Oikawa wants. He thinks about butting in to order a drink but figures its a bit too early in the night to start picking a fight.

A different waiter arrives with a bottle of red wine in moments, so Kuroo doesn’t have to spend long across from Oikawa without a buzz. He coaxes the sommelier into giving him a hearty pour, much to Oikawa’s disdain. Kuroo settles back into his chair as he drinks his first glass in a few seconds. It tastes like piss, but so does vodka, so he doesn’t complain. Oikawa sips--the perfect lady as he assesses Kuroo. He glances at an imaginary watch again. “Is this the part of the night when you critique my outfit?”

Oikawa snorts into his glass. “You’re a lost cause. No point in wasting good advice.”

Kuroo gasps in mock offense and refills his glass. Oikawa’s barely touched his, just holding the glass in the pretty cup of his long fingers. “I’m offended. I thought I looked nice tonight.”

Oikawa’s head tilts to the side, the curve of his lips taking on something a bit more… predatory. Kuroo schools his face blank, even though he knows the real fun has finally begun. Get a bit of wine in him and Oikawa was almost tolerable. “You look good enough.”

Kuroo cocks an eyebrow and leans across the table. “Good enough to eat?” Oikawa rolls his eyes and tries to hide his blush behind the rim of his glass.

“Hopefully you have better lines than that.”

Kuroo’s hand knocks against one of the many little forks on his side of the table. “Or what?” He taunts. From the vague panic in Oikawa’s eyes, he knows he’s being a bit too loud. “It’s not like you won’t bend over if I don’t give you a good line.” Oikawa’s jaw clenches again. “I’m pretty sure you’d bend over for me no matter what I--” Oikawa looks a moment away from shoving a hand over his mouth himself when their appetizers arrive. And it’s much too early in the night for Kuroo to embarrass Oikawa in front of their server.

Kuroo drains his glass and Oikawa scowls as the pretty waiter refills it for him. Possessive little bastard. Their conversation tapers into safe waters as they eat weirdly small food. He gets Oikawa talking about work, always a safe topic to get him on a real tear, and half listens. At least he nods when appropriate and asks the right questions. By the time their empty plates are being swept away, Kuroo figures this is one of the nicest meals they’ve shared.

Entrees arrive. Unsurprisingly, Oikawa ordered him some steak and a salad for himself. He knocks their feet together under the table cloth and Oikawa finishes off the bottle of wine with a hazy little smile. “Tetsu-chan,” Kuroo’s eyebrows pinch together.

“Don’t call me that.” 

Oikawa only laughs. Not a teasing little giggle or a sarcastic bark--but a real laugh. Or the closest thing Kuroo’s ever heard come from him. It sounds strangely good. “I don’t think you can tell me… what to do, when I’m the one paying your rent.” He hiccups in the middle of the sentence and then drains his glass. Kuroo’s going to have to drive in his expensive foreign car to get them to the penthouse.

He rolls his eyes. “Last I checked, you liked being told what to do, Tooru-san.”

Oikawa huffs and looks away.  _ Gotcha _ , Kuroo thinks. He leans across the table. No one’s come to get their plates yet, and the clatter of him bumping into one draws Oikawa’s gaze. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you can only get off when you’re being ordered around.” Oikawa looks like a deer in the headlights. Kuroo grins, toothy and wide. “At least, that’s what I gathered from that pretty picture last night.” A patchy flush blossoms on Oikawa’s cheeks.

The waiter spots their empty plates and Kuroo leans back, satisfied and half hair. It was a very pretty picture. Cropped to show the mess between Oikawa’s thighs, along with his glistening belly and chest up to the swell of his lips. He’d begged Kuroo to come over within the hour, promising a pretty penny--but Kuroo couldn’t miss his midterm the next day. Oikawa came with Kuroo’s promises for what he’d do after dinner tonight, and now he had to make up for that raincheck.

Oikawa makes a petty attempt at making him angry by flirting with the waiter. It doesn’t work when he’s glancing furtively at Kuroo and refuses the offer of dessert. Kuroo has him pinned like a bug and now he’s just watching him squirm. His cock is thickening fast, and he desperately needs to get into whatever flamboyant car Oikawa brought to dinner. “Tip him well,” Kuroo teases, and Oikawa scowls as he shakily signs the check.

Kuroo stands, chair screeching across the floor and reaches out for Oikawa. He’s a bit shaky, so Kuroo tucks his hand into the crook of his arm. The valet brings the car around, and Kuroo takes the keys from him. The car is just as over the top as he expected, high tech enough to basically drive itself. Oikawa clumsily handles the GPS for him and they pull away from the restaurant smoothly. 

He’s only granted a few sweet moments of silence before Oikawa breaks it. “Tetsu-chan?” Kuroo grunts. He knows from experience that its useless to try and stop Oikawa from calling him that in private. He also knows that its a very, very bad idea to respond to that name before they’re safely in his penthouse. He swallows and tightens his hands on the steering wheel. “Tetsu-chan, look at me.” He’s getting petulant now. The buzz heightening his arousal. Kuroo’s teeth sink into the meat of his tongue as he hears a zipper drag down, slow and enticing. He still refuses to look over, worried he’ll crash the car.

Fabric rustles next to him. In his periphery, he can see Oikawa’s hand disappearing into his pants. “Tetsu-”

He doesn’t let Oikawa finish. “Shut up,” he says. He isn’t particularly mean or teasing about it, just stern as he reaches over and rests his hand on Oikawa’ thigh. He does go quiet for a moment, but his hands keep moving under his clothes. “And don’t get off. Gotta make it up to you after last night.” Even in their arrangement, Kuroo tries to preserve a certain level of chivalry. Making Oikawa cum untouched on his cock is part of that chivalry.

Reluctantly, Oikawa tugs the hand out of his pants and slumps back in his seat. It’s a miracle that Kuroo doesn’t get pulled over for speeding before he parks the car. He unclips his seatbelt and finally takes his sweaty hand off Oikawa’s thigh. “Jesus,” Kuroo says when he glances up at Oikawa. He looks wrecked already, but his eyes come back into focus as Kuroo stares at him. He hadn’t thought Oikawa had that much to drink at the restaurant, but this  _ had _ to be the wine.

“Tooru is fine.” Kuroo stares at him for a second and then snorts.

“You’re terrible,” he decides, but still reaches forward to carefully tuck his cock back into his pants. Oikawa doesn’t seem too upset at the insult, tilting his head to vie for a kiss as he grips Kuroo’s shoulders. “You want a kiss?” They’re nose to nose, Kuroo smiling at Oikawa’s pout. He nods, sharp and cute. Kuroo wasn’t really intending on denying him anyway, but after that, it seems impossible not to lean in and seal their lips together. Oikawa makes a needy little noise into his mouth, tongue hot and wet against Kuroo’s bottom lip. He cups the back of his neck, trying to stem some of the urgent desperation pouring off of him. Oikawa bites into his bottom lip and yanks him across the center console.

Kuroo has to knot his fingers in the hair at the nape of Oikawa’s neck to extricate himself before the windows start to steam up. Oikawa’s grinning at him like he’s won some game and Kuroo rolls his eyes as he turns off the car. He pops the door open and Oikawa follows suit. They make it to the elevator without being spotted while their hands roam over each other.

Kuroo fumbles with the fob on his keys that allows the elevator to travel all the way to the penthouse. The task is made remarkably more difficult when Oikawa’s fingers creep along his inseam and his tongue licks at his neck. The doors finally slide shut and Kuroo spins on him, shoving him up against the wall. He whines when the guardrail hits his spine, but greedily licks into Kuroo’s mouth when his lips part. Kuroo sinks his hand back into Oikawa’s gelled hair, breaking their kiss with the iron grip. 

Oikawa paws at the front of his shirt, untucking it from his pants. “Stop acting so fucking drunk,” Kuroo says. Oikawa’s gaze flicks to him as his fingers curl into the front of his pants. Kuroo shakes him and hears Oikawa’s teeth clack. “It’s unflattering.” 

Oikawa rolls his eyes and his fingers become remarkably more dexterous in yanking Kuroo’s pants open. “You liked it.” His voice is silky. Almost as velvety as the skin of his palm against Kuroo’s cock.

“Not really,” his head tilts back, groaning softly as Oikawa’s grip on his cock tightens. “It’s better when you’re sober.” Oikawa clicks his tongue as the elevator comes to a stop, the doors slide open silently. “It’s more fun when I make you act like a slut. And you don’t have any excuses.” Oikawa makes a weird noise, somewhere between embarrassment and annoyance as he pulls his hand out of Kuroo’s pants and ducks around him.

“Don’t act like the feeling isn’t mutual.”

Kuroo’s eyes are on Oikawa’s ass as he follows him through the apartment. He laughs. “It isn’t. There’s plenty of other ass I could get.” Oikawa’s hands flex at his sides. It’s always been so easy to press his buttons. “Ass that’s my own age.” He snickers at his own joke as Oikawa pushes the door to his bedroom open. 

Oikawa starts making quick work of his clothes. He doesn’t turn to Kuroo and seems to be deliberately ignoring him as he moves to flick on the bedside lamp. “Oh, c’mon,” he groans, “don’t pout.” Oikawa flings his blazer toward the chair in the corner and starts to unbutton his shirt. Kuroo toes off his shoes on the side of the bed, before crawling onto the mattress. Oikawa still doesn’t look at him as he pushes his shirt off his chest.

As much as Kuroo teases, it would be hard to find a piece of ass with such a nice pair of tits too. “Don’t be mad,” he pitches his voice a bit lower. “You like it when I’m mean to you.” Oikawa doesn’t move away when Kuroo grabs his hips but doesn’t yet reach out for him. Kuroo leans in close, lips dragging up his sternum as he tries not to smile. “You like it when I call you a worn-out slut that has to pay for dick.” His thumbs rub over the soft skin above the band of Oikawa’s pants, tongue flicking between his pecs before he kisses up to his collarbones. He nips at Oikawa’s skin and the threat of leaving a mark finally makes Oikawa’s arms wind around him.

He slides his hands up Oikawa’s sides, framing his ribs in his palms as he rubs his lips against the underside of his jaw. “C’mon, baby, you’re making me so hard.” He ruts his hips forward until the bulge of his cock rubs against Oikawa’s thigh. “Even if you are a whore.” His voice still holds a little laugh--it took a while before he could avoid bursting into giggles while doing this type of dirty talk--but Oikawa doesn’t seem to notice. He folds into Kuroo’s chest, little shivers making him weak as Kuroo cups his ass.

“There you go, baby.” He twists and lays Oikawa out across the mattress. He is beautiful, even if Kuroo would never admit it. He leans down and licks across one of his nipples. “No need to be mad, I’m gonna take care of you.” He cups Oikawa’s cock as he bites into his chest. A little whimper wiggles from between his teeth and Kuroo’s cock pulses as he gives him a wolfish smile.

“You’re an ass,” Oikawa murmurs, hips arching as Kuroo finishes undressing him.

Kuroo shrugs. “You don’t fuck me for my personality.” That was maybe the only thing they could always agree on.

Oikawa grunts and kicks his legs to get his pants and boxers off. His cock leaks against his belly, an arm cast across his face as he spread his legs a bit wider. “Hurry up then,” he says, almost like he knows Kuroo is examining the vulnerable underside of his arms and the bones in his wrist.

He smacks Oikawa’s thigh to distract himself. “Needy,” he reprimands and leans for the lube. Oikawa busies himself with getting at Kuroo’s cock while he slicks his fingers. It doesn’t take much work, Kuroo’s cock practically leaping into his palm after he shoves his boxers down his thighs. He spits into his palm and works his fingers over Kuroo’s length. He growls behind his teeth, desire spiking as he curls his hand around the back of Oikawa’s neck.

“What are you--”

“Shut up,” he hisses, twisting Oikawa so he can fuck the tip of his cock against his lips. He puts up a pathetic fight, eyes fiery as his palm twists around Kuroo’s cock and his tongue flicks out to wet the head. “Put your mouth to better work.” Oikawa rolls his eyes at the line, but he sucks Kuroo’s cock into his mouth anyway.

Kuroo’s hand falls back between his thighs, streaking lube across his skin before his fingers hook inside him. Oikawa pushes farther down his cock, even as the burn makes his cheeks go a ruddy red. After spreading him too wide on the very tips of his fingers, Kuroo takes it slow with sliding his fingers inside. Drool drips down Oikawa’s chin, brow furrowed as his hole is forced open around the digits. Kuroo cups the back of his head, a small smile on his lips as he scissors his fingers a bit. Oikawa spasms and Kuroo knows he likes it. He would have been bitten already if Oikawa hadn’t.

His hips rock slightly, glans pushing against the back of Oikawa’s throat. It flutters in response, a wet gurgle vibrating against his tongue--but he doesn’t pull away. Kuroo twists his fingers into Oikawa’s prostate to reward him. “C’mon,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb against the soft hair on the back of Oikawa’s head. His eyes fall all the way closed and Kuroo looks at the fan of lashes laying over his cheekbones. A moment later, his throat relaxes and the tip of Kuroo’s cock slips into it. It shocks a moan out of him, his fingers screwing even deeper into Oikawa.

His thighs clamp shut around his wrist, throat working around his cock frantically as Kuroo ruts deeper into that delicious heat. “Fuck yeah, you feel so good, baby.” He groans, pushing harder on the back of his head even as Oikawa tries to pull away. “I love feeling your mouth and your pussy working at the same time.” He twists his fingers to emphasize. “My perfect, fucking whore.” His voice is ragged and he licks his lips.

Oikawa punches him in the stomach and Kuroo finally lets go of him. His cock slips from the tight grip of his throat and Kuroo finally sees it all. Saliva shining on his lips and chin, tear tracks on his cheeks--wracking wet coughs as he sucks in desperate breaths. Kuroo thrusts his fingers a bit harder, opening Oikawa up faster. “You know I hate when you run your mouth.”

“No, you don’t,” Kuroo says without skipping a beat, sliding back between Oikawa’s thighs as he does. He peers down at where his rim is stretched around his fingers swollen and sucking around him. He leans forward onto his elbow and spits onto Oikawa’s hole. He fucks the bubbly saliva into him, even as Oikawa shifts in manufactured discomfort. Kuroo peers up at him as he leans forward to lick at his balls. “My mouth is the only reason you fuck me.”

That shuts Oikawa up adequately. Kuroo finishes stretching him open while sucking on his balls, watching how his pretty cock twitches against his belly. He sits back up and drags Oikawa up into his lap. He makes an annoyed squawking sound which Kuroo ignores as he slicks his cock and throws Oikawa’s thighs over his arms. The tips of his fingers dig into Oikawa’s ass, spreading him open. He watches how his slick hole gapes and twitches before he pops the head of his cock inside raw.

“Bastard,” Oikawa hisses. Kuroo’s eyes flick up his body. His head is thrown back, fingers knotted in the sheets and his chest rising and falling on shivery little breaths. The tendons in his neck are trying to push up through his skin, cast in sharp shadows like his collarbones. “You’ll have to clean me up.”

Kuroo’s eyes drag away from his body, back to where he’s carving Oikawa apart on his cock. His hips jump forward a bit rougher and Oikawa hisses through his teeth, even while his cock jumps and drips on his belly. “If you want me to rim you, all you gotta do is ask, babe,” Kuroo says. The taunt goes a bit shaky when Oikawa clenches like a vice around him. Kuroo claws at the curve of his ass and ruts forward. His arms burn as he lifts Oikawa a bit off the bed, forcing the cushion of his ass against his pubic bone. The tremble of his muscles is worth the punched out little noise Oikawa makes when Kuroo’s entirely sheathed inside him.

He rocks a little bit but comes to a quick stop when Oikawa aims a sloppy kick at one of his kidneys. “Besides, you like the mess.” Kuroo leans over, tongue dipping into Oikawa’s navel to taste the puddle of pre-come spreading across his skin. Oikawa makes a disagreeing noise, thighs trembling against Kuroo’s arms. “Like feeling it leak out of you after I fuck you open.” The tip of his tongue lashes against the tip of Oikawa’s cock--tasting his bitter pre-come right from the source.

Kuroo shifts his hips again, and this time Oikawa doesn’t discourage him. Instead, he blooms around the sensation, the tension in his body rippling away as he sucks in a deep breath. “There you go. Good boy,” Kuroo’s mouth keeps running even as his spine straightens and his attention goes back to fucking Oikawa within an inch of his life. 

“You’re gonna make me go soft,” Oikawa threatens, “Shut up.” Kuroo rolls his eyes, nails digging into Oikawa’s ass as his hips start to roll. He manages to stay quiet for a bit, absorbing the heat around him and the little noises spilling off the tip of Oikawa’s tongue. His hair is bouncing around his face, back rubbing against his soft sheets as Kuroo’s thrusts get harder.

“I love this ass,” Kuroo murmurs, pinching the curve of one of Oikawa’s ass cheeks as they slam together again. He rolls his hips in short little movements, keeping them close together as he aims for Oikawa’s prostate. He catches it on a short thrust, and Oikawa’s lips part--a real moan ripped from his throat. “So pretty,” Kuroo coos, fingers digging into his ass crack to spread him open.

His harsh thrusts start up again, and he can hear Oikawa’s teeth clacking together as he curls one of his hands around Oikawa’s hip. Kuroo watches Oikawa’s cock bounce against his belly, sweat rolling down the tip of his nose as the sound of their skin clapping together fills the room. Oikawa’s head rolls to the side, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his spine curls, hips rolling into Kuroo’s movements.

His hole is starting to flutter around him, cock dribbling steadily. His skin is shining with sweat. Kuroo is trapped in a positive feedback loop, every squeeze of Oikawa’s cock around him makes him feel weak--desperation ratcheted up a little higher as he thrusts faster and makes him clench again.

He licks his dry lips, unable to catch his breath as his shoulder muscles start to knot up. “Fuck,” he curses. His cock is pulsing and he tosses his hair out of his eyes before he drops one of Oikawa’s legs. The angle changes and Oikawa makes an unhappy little sound. Kuroo ignores him and forces him onto his side, stretching his other leg up onto shoulder as he grips his waist. He fucks into him harder making him slide across the sheets until he finds something to hold onto.

“Oh, fuck--” Oikawa squeals, heel coming down on Kuroo’s shoulder as he ruts inside him. He grins, feral and desperate as he reaches up to tweak one of his nipples. His spine bows, forcing his ass further into the cup of Kuroo’s hips.

“Goddammit,” he moans, clawing up Oikawa’s thigh as he starts up short, selfish little ruts into his gripping hole. He squeezes at Oikawa’s tit with his other hand, scratching over his nipple and drawing his body into a bow tight arc. “Yeah, baby, c’mon,” he urges, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him. “Wanna feel your pussy squeeze around me.”

Oikawa huffs out a little laugh. “I hate you.” Kuroo giggles back at him and smacks his ass.

“Don’t ruin the mood,” he chastises, hand sliding across his chest to pinch his other nipple. Oikawa shivers, gripping him just a little tighter. Oikawa’s sweat is dampening all the clothing Kuroo didn’t bother to take off, making him feel filthy and desperate as he digs his nails into the center of Oikawa’s chest. “Lemme feel you cum, baby.” He rakes his nails down Oikawa’s pretty, soft skin--leaving behind rippling lines of red and Oikawa whines loud and cums.

“Jesus, fuck,” Kuroo howls, head thrown back as his hand gets coated in cum. He ruts inside Oikawa, ignoring his little overstimulated whimpers. “Masochistic little slut,” he hisses, mouth hanging open as he shudders and comes apart inside Oikawa. He fucks into him nice and deep, streaking his insides with cum before shuddering and pulling out.

He drops Oikawa’s leg back to the bed and falls to his side. Oikawa’s eyes are half-closed, the room filled with the sound of him trying to catch his breath as scratches, pinches and love bites darken on his skin. Kuroo’s cock gives a phantom pulse at the mess he’s made of the man. He slips a hand between Oikawa’s thighs, ignoring the grip that snaps around his wrist, as he presses against his hole. His fingers slip through his own cum and a curl of satisfaction warms in his belly as he fucks it back inside Oikawa.

“You’re disgusting,” he murmurs. Kuroo looks to him, finding his eyes a little less hazy. He grins.

“You betcha.” It used to be awkward, but now he just leans in, kissing up the scratches on Oikawa’s chest before pecking his lips. “I need rent money.” 

He pulls back just far enough to see the little smirk curl on his lips. Kuroo leans back in to kiss it off his face, which only works about as long as the kiss lasts. “Oh really? You think you earned that much?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes and dips his fingers into the cooling puddle of cum on Oikawa’s belly. “I mean, you did cum untouched, so. Yeah, I think so.”

Oikawa laughs another genuine one that makes Kuroo’s insides feel mushy. “Touche.” He takes a deep breath before gesturing back toward the nightstand. “There’s cash in there.” Kuroo pecks his cheek once more before crawling over him.

He opens the drawer and pulls enough crisp bills from a white envelope to cover his rent for the month. He stands beside the bed, making a lame attempt at looking a bit more put together. Kuroo’s used to being seen as Oikawa’s eye candy in the building, he doesn’t mind. Oikawa’s still laying in bed comatose when Kuroo leans over him. “Thanks, daddy.”

Oikawa snorts but still lets Kuroo kiss him before he leaves the penthouse. 

**Author's Note:**

> my inactive twitter is @sinningpumpkin :)


End file.
